


and i feel life for the very first time (love in my arms and the sun in my eyes)

by astarisms



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post Book 3: The Empire of Gold, This is, You're Welcome, i dont think i love you confessions are their style, i dont think there are spoilers aside from the obvious but tread lightly, it's always made me so soft all the ways that these two say i love you without really saying it, soft, this is from dara's pov bc he's fun, to make up for all my angst lately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astarisms/pseuds/astarisms
Summary: it hasn't escaped his notice, that her dreams have come true, that she's found the happiness she's been looking for.
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	and i feel life for the very first time (love in my arms and the sun in my eyes)

“You are happy.”

Nahri looks up from the scrolls draped over her lap, surprised and a bit bemused at the statement. He had not realized he had spoken it aloud until she tilts her head at him, a baffled smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Creator, she is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Am I?” she asks once she’s recovered from the suddenness of it, with that amused note in her voice and teasing curl to her lips that make his stomach feel as it had the first time he had changed into the wind—like he is both freefalling and soaring. He might have been embarrassed at the unprompted slip of his tongue if the observation had been a fleeting, momentary thing, and not something he had been noticing since his return. 

She still has rough days, sometimes, where she comes home with clenched fists, or frustrated tears burning in her eyes. She has furious days where she curses everyone and everything, spitting fire at this broken city that did not seem to  _ want _ to be fixed, despite her best efforts. She still has solemn days, when thinking about the life she left behind, or the parents she had never known. 

He knows, better than anyone, that happiness does not come easily. It must be taken, and gripped tightly, lest it slip through your fingers again. 

“Yes,” he says, softly to hide the roughened quality of his voice, thick with all he feels for her. He is at once proud and relieved and so very in love with her. It seems impossible that he might be by her side now, that they might share this life together, after everything that has transpired, but far be it from him to complain. 

She leans on her knee, propping her chin in her hand, and raises an eyebrow at him.

“And just what am I happy about?” 

“Everything,” he replies simply, because it is true, and then, “ nothing,” because it is, too. Nahri laughs, pushing the scrolls off her lap and reaching out for him, beckoning him to sit on the couch beside her. 

“Have you been drinking? What are you going on about?” 

How does he answer that? How does he tell her that the happiness he speaks of, the one that he sees in her, is not a mood that comes and goes, but a state of being? 

_ Steal your happiness, little thief _ , he had told her once. And she had listened. There are the bad days, but her life is filled with joy. The woman who animatedly spoke of her patients, who smiled to herself, who took up all the space in the home she had built for herself with enthusiasm, is a far cry from the sharpened, guarded conwoman with one friend and meager possessions he had met in a Cairene cemetery all those years ago, though he still finds glimpses of her even now. 

He steps closer, until she can take his hand and pull him down beside her. There’s that sly edge to her smile, the keen gaze that misses nothing, but they are framed by laugh lines now. They are faint—Creator knows the path she had walked, the one she had been forced onto, had not been an easy one—but they are there, and they soften her. 

Unable to resist the urge, he lifts his hand to her face, tracing the ones by her eyes. She covers his fingers with hers, leaning into him. She has become familiar enough with his moods that the abruptness of their nature no longer throws her but for a moment, and the thought warms him.

“I asked what you wanted for yourself once. Do you remember what you said?” 

Her expression wavers. Their goodbye is still a bit sore for the both of them, even now. He remembers the exact moment when she realized what he had been trying to tell her, he remembers her worry and her fear and the way she had all but fallen apart in his arms. He remembers her tears, and his own that he had held in check until he had crossed the veil. 

He can tell that she is remembering too, shoving through all the pain to recall what he was asking of her.

“I... yes, I remember.”

“‘To be a doctor,’” he quotes back to her, smiling when she flushes. “‘To fix people and fill your head with knowledge. And maybe find some riches and happiness along the way.’” 

She cringes, pulling away from him.

“Did I really say it like that?” she asks, wrinkling her nose. He laughs, taking her hand before she can withdraw completely and threading their fingers together, bringing them to his lips. 

“Word for word, if memory serves.”

“Are we sure your old age isn’t affecting that yet?” He snorts, tugging on her arm until she is nearly in his lap. She yelps in protest, but makes no move to shift away once she is settled against him.

“I am quite confident that it remains intact, though your concern is most touching.” Close as they are, he takes a moment to just drink her in, before he sighs, trying to find the words. “Those dreams of yours... they have come true, though I had no doubt they would.” 

“Dara…”

“The way you smiled that day, when you talked about them… I had never seen you look like that before. You were glowing.” Her face warms again, and he lifts their joined hands to his lips again, brushing a kiss over her knuckles in the small space between them. “I know not how else to describe it other than that the way you looked in that moment… it has become your default.”

She looks close to tears when he meets her eyes again, and he frowns.

“Oh, my love, I did not mean to make you cry.”

“You terrible man, you always do,” she laughs, a little wetly, and wipes at her eyes with her free hand. “I’m sure I’m glowing now.”

“You always are,” he murmurs, and she hits his chest. He smiles again, catching her fingers in his. “It is hard to look at you sometimes, Banu Nahida. Would that I could have put a smile like that on your face years ago.”

Something about his comment gives her pause, and this time it is her that frowns. She shifts against him, pulling back enough to search his eyes. She opens her mouth, then closes it again, and he waits, letting her find the words she needs.

“Dara…” she says slowly, finally. “For all that we’ve been through, I… you’ve always been a part of those dreams. Even if, for awhile, there was a piece of me that couldn’t admit it.” She does not have to speak to the hurt, the betrayal, the pain he had caused her. He was all too aware, and the thought makes his chest ache, even as the weight of what she is telling him knocks the breath from him. “I only realized it after you left. Seeing you again after we had been so sure it wasn’t possible... it felt like finding the last piece of a puzzle.”

Despite the fact that he felt much the same, hearing it from her, knowing just how deeply she reciprocated his feelings, it throws him. He closes his eyes against the rush of emotion, and Nahri shakes her hands free of his to cup his face, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Ya, Dara, we have done the impossible.” she whispers into his hair. “We can’t spend forever regretting what could have been when we’ve finally found something that works.”

His breath shudders, and when he opens his eyes again hers are wet. She smiles at him, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is nothing he would not do for her. Creator help him, making her smile was all he wanted to do for the rest of their lives. He covers her hands with his, turning his head to press a kiss to one of her palms.

“A testament to your mercy and grace, no doubt,” he murmurs tearfully. “I do not deserve it.”

Nahri snorts through her own tears, tilting his face up, and her lips curl teasingly. He marvels at her strength, her versatility, and the ease with which she pulls herself back together. He knows they have not come without hardship. 

She is so much more than what has been done to her.

She settles comfortably onto his thigh, and his hands find a home on her hips, urging her closer. She leans in, until he can count every freckle, every eyelash. “I deserve my work, and my hospital. I deserve this home that we’ve built, and the meals you’ve learned to cook rather than conjure.” He laughs, and she grins. “I deserve my friends, and the family I’ve found, and the one we’re going to make one day. And...I deserve  _ this _ ,” she says, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper, and kisses him. He cannot help the little sound that rises in his throat.

But before he can wrap his arms around her, before he can pull her against him and deepen the embrace, she draws back, just enough to speak again.

“I deserve happiness, and you... you’re part of it.”

He feels the words like a blow. If he had been standing, they would have staggered him. 

“Who am I,” he whispers hoarsely, “to deny you your happiness?” 

Nahri smiles again, radiant.

“Now you’re getting it,” she returns, just as softly, and pulls his lips back to hers.


End file.
